


Lethal Volley

by MayhemTheGremlin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Drama, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Language, Musical References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayhemTheGremlin/pseuds/MayhemTheGremlin
Summary: Cultures collide when a sparrow with secrets lands among the cats.Music, sports, diplomatic immunity!?A reader insert fic (with a twist).
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Velvet Goldmine

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome dear reader to my headspace. 
> 
> A reader insert fic with a little twist. Rather than (y/n, l/n) I've decided to place you in the body of one Emma Van der Vinke, a German alt teen coming to live in Japan for reasons. So I guess you could say I put you in the body of an OC but FUCK IT! All of us have dreamed of being someone else, right?
> 
> Anyway I hope you like it. There'll be music references a plenty, as well as use of multiple languages (which I'll figure out how to format so you're never confused, Dear Reader)
> 
> ALSO please forgive but point out any errors. I'm not fluent in anything besides English and French, and have actually been learning German on my own, which is probably why I'm so compelled to stick it in this story.
> 
> This isn't beta'd, and I wrote chunks of it (mostly future chapters) at 3am so leave comments of you like so I can improve.

_A massive roar of sound, the brief feeling of free fall before crashing into the water, the car already sinking. Too fast. Fingers scrabbling at the seatbelt, the window breaking and then being pushed/pulled out into the swirling current. A woman's face crumpled in sorrow as she disappears beneath the surface._

_"Sicher sein, Spatzi"_

Blinking back to reality, you scrub at your face and test the shower's temperature spray's temperature, before stepping in washing yourself with brisk efficiency. Rubbing at your skin harder than necessary in an attempt to chase away the chill you feel deep within your bones.

Twenty minutes later you're dressed and in the kitchen, hair still damp, and ignoring the breakfast spread, instead snatching up a single piece of toast and buttering it before adding a little honey. Munching absently, contemplating if you have time to sneak a coffee, before deciding that you're absolutely going to need the extra energy for today. 

You're interrupted just as you're about to take your first sip.

"You're a little young for that, no?"

 _Curses_ . Why is he okay with wine at dinner, but bothered by _this?_

The man who walks in is older, mid fifties with thinning hair and a kind face. He's dressed in neatly pressed slacks and a button up shirt with its sleeves rolled up, meaning he's probably been up in his study already despite it not even being 7:30. 

He's also been your legal guardian for the past seven months. You call him Uncle, except he isn't. Not really.

Pinning him with a glare and slurping noisily in defiance earns you a dramatic sigh as he gestures towards the table "At least sit for a bit, you have time." 

You kick out a chair and drop yourself into it, but take another rebellious slurp, even louder this time.

"You shouldn't do that."

_Slurp_

"It's unladylike."

_Slurp_

"Please?"

_Sslllluuuuuurrrrrrp_

He lets out another sigh, but there's a smile tugging at his lips that makes you smirk triumphantly into your cup. Draining the last drop you start reaching for the pot to get a refill only to have your cup whisked away, "Hey!"

"She speaks! Was beginning to worry you'd gone mute there. And no. One's enough, _more_ than enough." He carries your mug over to the sink, well out of reach, all the while muttering about caffeine addiction.

"Have you _seen_ my schedule?" You whine "I'll barely make it to _lunch_!"

"First, yes because we went over it together. And second, it's _high school_ , and not say...a high stakes meeting with the Minister of Economic Revitalization."

"Ouch." Wincing in mild sympathy as you bite into your toast "That's today?"

"Yes, so I need to be in top shape. On that note…" He reaches for the pot. "Are you ready for this? Starting a new school I mean."

"Not like it's the first time." You snort and take another bite before pouring yourself a glass of juice. Because _sugar_ is fine apparently. 

"I wish you'd have let me enroll you in one of the international schools."

"No."

"Or at least one of the schools with an international program that's at least a _little_ prepared for someone of your circumstance. Fukurodani…."

"Has people there that I know. So no."

"At least promise me you'll consider transferring if this school doesn't work out." He huffs at your rolling eyes "I mean it! I don't want you being bullied by brats who aren't used to foreigners."

"Please, it can't be worse than Afghanistan was." Popping the last bite of toast in your mouth and gulping at your juice "Besides, if _I_ can't manage to navigate the social circle of a bunch of teens, then I'm clearly a product of failed parenting."

"Alright, alright. I yield." Hands up in mock surrender and giving a sigh of defeat. 

"But you know...if you're concerned about my having trouble handling a new group of peers, then maybe I _should_ take a second cup. You know, for extra fortitude."

"Not a chance."

"Worth a shot."

"You're a brat."

"Sure am." You reply with a grin

"I blame your father. For both your sass _and_ your caffeine dependency. "

The lingering taste of butter and honey turns to ash in your mouth, and the weight of loss and guilt settles back into your chest.

_"Sicher sein, Spatzi"_

_Be safe, sparrow._

  
You can see a reflection of your expression on your uncle's face. Unsurprising considering how close he'd been to your parents. Father had always spoken of him with great affection, and though you'd only met him sporadically during childhood, he'd never failed to treat you as anything less than close family.

His lips turn further downwards "Emma, I'm sorry you didn't have a choice about coming here." He wipes a hand across his face and sighs "I often worry that you wish I hadn't adopted you."

"Funny, I usually wonder if you regret adopting me." Your lips quirk a little "Seeing as I'm such a _pest_."

"Pretty sure your father got me drunk before having me sign the guardianship." He jokes before adding "But I can't help feeling like you would have preferred to stay in Germany."

"Don't. There's no one I'd rather live with, _Onkel."_

"You know... seeing as you're part of a Dutch family now, you might have to start practicing."

"You couldn't pay me enough to call you _Oom_." 

"But _Mijn nicht!_ "

" _Nicht_ is a negation in my language."

"Yes but it means niece in mine, and you're under my roof."

"Yes but you don't _own_ this roof, now do you?"

The two of you break into laughs, until your uncle regains himself enough to steer you out of the kitchen "Off with you, go grab your things. Kenji will be ready to take you to school."

"I didn't pack my lunch yet!"

"I'll pack it. _Go._ "

After one last look in the mirror to makes your uniform is decent, swiftly putting your hair up in twin braids, and grabbing your jacket and bag, you're in the entryway pulling on a pair of worn and comfortable converse sneakers under your adoptive father's disapproving look "If you insist on wearing those things at least let me buy you new ones."

"The wear is part of the aesthetic. It sends a message."

"Exactly, the message that the _Dutch Ambassador_ is too cheap to buy his adoptive daughter decent shoes."

You take the lunchbox and thermos out of his hands before pecking a kiss on his cheek "I'm not changing my shoes."

"Brat."

"Always."

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

The ride to school is uneventful. Your driver allows you to link your music to the car's stereo system ( _it's a Bowie kind of day_ ), and the two of you chat a bit and he questions you about translations for certain words or song lyrics. 

There's a flutter in your stomach and the car pulls up to the school's entrance, and you're hoping no one pays much attention to the license plate. You confirm the hour that Kenji is to return and pick you up and then it's _Have a pleasant day, Miss._ Before he's off.

You take a quick moment to make sure your uniform doesn't have anything out of place, and that your knee socks ( _cue PTSD flashbacks of Catholic school_ ) aren't crooked, before squaring your shoulders to walk into your first day at Nekoma High.

Switching out your converse for a pair of disposable slippers, you then follow the hallway signs that lead you to the school office. Presenting yourself at the reception desk, you're swiftly escorted into the Principal's office for a brief meeting while the receptionist leaves to fetch a pair of shoes in your size. You're starting two weeks after everyone else so he takes the time to explain how you're going to need to catch up individually with your teachers, then proceeds to assure you with far too much politeness of how _aware_ he is of your _situation_ , and that the staff will remain _discreet._ He praises that Nekoma High is such a _welcoming_ place and how he's sure you'll make happy memories here. 

After what feels like years, the receptionist returns with a pair of soft white shoes (s _lippers?)_ marked with a colour indicating you as a second year. After fitting them on you turn and thank the principal before following the receptionist to first your assigned shoe locker so you can put away your shoes ( _nooo!)_ , then leading you to your classroom.

The sound of students chattering amicably on the other side of the door goes completely dead the moment you step inside the room.

 _Damn_. You're more nervous than you should be, probably uncle's fault for denying you that second coffee. Yep. For _sure._

The sight of thirty plus eyes locking onto you is almost _audible._ As though you're suddenly under a series of microscopes, or worse, in the sights of a gun, though the faces of your peers reflect mostly polite curiosity, except that one kid huddled in the corner on his phone ( _h_ _ey another blonde!)_ which helps ease the nerves a little. But you are _extremely_ aware of your position here.

_Gaijin_

_Ausländer_

_Foreigner_

This is a country in which less than two percent of its population comes from other nations. A country with a rigid social hierarchy and code of etiquette, and not easily forgiving of missteps, even to newcomers who are finding their way.

_But._

You remind yourself that you're not just _any_ foreigner. You're Emma Van der Vinke, formerly Emma Vogel, adopted daughter of the _Dutch Ambassador_ , and damn if you'll screw up and be cowed by a bunch of kids. So you face their gazes head on, with a carefully neutral expression and listen to your new teacher as they present you to the class. 

You give your name (last then first), then perform a polite bow along with the standard greeting.

_Yoroshiku onegaishimasu._

_Please take care of me._

To you it's an odd phrase, the idea of asking everyone around you to take care of you or _be nice_ to you every time you meet someone leaves a weird taste in your mouth. The intricate politeness of Japanese culture is completely counter to your own Germanic upbringing. You were raised on firm handshakes and direct eye contact, not bowing and….god this feels almost like _simpering_.

But. Not your country, not your rules. And it's certainly not the first time you've adapted to cultures that differ so much from your own _(_ r _emember Afghanistan, or Morocco, or heck the US even_ ) _._

Greeting ritual completed, your teacher allows a few minutes for questions. It goes pretty much how you expect it to.

"Where are you from?"

"How long have you been in Japan?"

"What do you do for fun?"

"What do your parents do?"

The first three are easy volleys. _Germany. A few weeks. I enjoy music and photography._

It's the last one that feels a little trickier.

"My parents are away so I live with my Uncle. He works in International Affairs"

A little vague perhaps, but at least no one can call you a liar.

Everyone seems satisfied with how you interact with them. There's still that one kid in the corner avoiding everyone, and still on his phone ( _is no one going to call him out?_ ) The teacher directs you to the only open seat, along a wall and further in back. Good. At least you won't be surrounded on all sides.

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Morning classes flow pretty smoothly, with each teacher taking the time to show you the work you'll need to do in order to catch up. Modern Japanese, Algebra and Biology. Of those three only the first concerns you since you've been struggling with your written Japanese. The teacher of that particular class offers to arrange private tutoring after school starting tomorrow, tempting you to dramatically prostrate yourself in gratitude for it.

At lunch while everyone else either cracks open bentos of fish and rice, or heads downstairs to fight over _yakisoba_ , you tuck into your own two tiered lunch consisting of sausage and potato salad, with slices of Dutch pepper cake as dessert. Opening the thermos you find a note taped to the lid.

_Your extra fortitude_

_Love,_

_Oom_

Pepper cake _and_ coffee? Someone's winning ( _adoptive_ ) Father of the Year.

And it turns out that you _need_ the boost, because the second of your afternoon classes is gym, where the teacher puts through your paces in a general fitness evaluation. Starting off with taking your weight and height ( _mildly uncomfortable_ ), before running you through a gamut of exercises including but not limited to - a series of sprints, shuttle runs, push/sit/pull ups, flexibility tests, and hand-eye coordination drills. By classes end your teacher -an older stern faced gentleman- seems reasonably accepting of your level of physical fitness. 

Tiring for sure, but then it's followed by English ( _pfff_ _been speaking it since_ ** _toddler_** _hood)_ , so you don't worry too much about zoning out.

After the final bell, it's _o-soji_ . Probably the strangest part of your day since you've never had to clean your own classroom before. Still, you reflect as you drag the broom around, that the idea of students learning to care for their own environment is a good one ( _a_ _nd a smart move economically_ ). It looks like students here are less likely to take their learning environment for granted.

When everyone's tasks are complete and you're allowed to leave, you do so with relish. Exchanging polite goodbyes before slipping a pair of headphones to drown out the din over overexcited teenagers making a break for freedom.

_You got crazy legs, you got amazing head_

_You got rings on your fingers and your hair's hot red_

_You got wit from my tongue, name on the sun_

_I gotcha going to my breast_

_'Cause you're the only one, who uses school to pleasure_

It's a move you'll soon regret as you descend the stairs when something _(someone?)_ you don't hear coming slams into you from behind hard enough to send you pitching forward and off the last few steps into empty air Your fate with certain death _(okay,_ **_maybe_ ** _bruises you_ **_complete_ ** _drama queen_ ) is halted when someone steps into your path and catches you in their arms. 

Finding your balance and stammering an apology you look up _(way up)_ to see just who your saviour is . He's tall, and lean, pinning you with a hooded gaze and lazy smile that makes you tingle _ever so slightly_ . His hair is almost _too_ messy, the way it flops over one of his hazel eyes has you almost itching to brush it aside and maybe drag your nails across his scalp. Something about him tells you that he'd _like_ it. 

Your headphones are knocked askew, he reaches up to pluck them right off your head.

_Velvet goldmine, you stroke me like the rain_

_Snake it, take it, panther princess you must stay_

_Velvet goldmine, naked on your chain_

_I'll be your king volcano right for you again and again_

_My velvet goldmine_

Your headphones spewing music in one hand, the other still anchoring your waist, his smile widens ever so slightly, and it fills you with an odd sensation you can't quite place.

"Are you alright?"

"Ah…. uh yeah. Sorry there was um…" now that you've managed to come across as a brilliant conversationalist, you work to free your fingers from where they've dug themselves into the fabric of his blazer _(wow his detergent smells **great**_ ), and try again "I think someone either bumped into me by accident, or was trying to kill me on my first day. Either way, thanks for the rescue. You're okay, right?" One of your hands has managed to free itself, hovering in indecision between reaching for your headphones ( _probably a good idea, they were expensive_ ), pushing him away ( _maybe impolite?_ ), or pulling closer ( _not that one._ )

"Me? Oh I'm fine, totally calculated move on my part."

"Saving me? Or were you actually the one who plotted this murder attempt?"

"Catching you." He chuckles. "I saw some idiot crash into you and reacted accordingly."

"Ah. I see." The heat of his hand still at your waist is seeping through the thick material of your blazer. The sensation of it reminds you that you should maybe be reclaiming some personal space "Well consider me in your debt."

His fingers twitch against your side, but he doesn't stop you from pulling away. Instead he hands you your headphones and steps back "It's kind of my responsibility to look after the underclassmen." His eyes twinkle with mischief, silently telling you that he might not mind the idea of you owing him one.

A glance down shows that the colour on his indoor shoes does indeed mark him as a year higher than you. The idea of automatically having to show respect just because someone was born a year ahead of you and not because they've earned it _beyond_ irritating. 

But in _his_ case. His case definitely earns your respect. 

"Thank you, _Senpai_. It's appreciated."

He flashes you an almost feral grin.

"I like your accent. I hope I get to hear it again some time. See ya around."

He steps away to meld back into the crowd and away, leaving you to make your way to the shoe lockers at the entrance so you can _finally_ switch back into your beloved converse.

It's only after you've settled into the car for the drive home that you replay the feeling of his fingers twitching against your waist as you'd pulled away. It reminds you so much of how a cat darts it's paw to trap whatever's dragging against it.

That image, along with that grin full of oh so many teeth.

 _Spatzi_ meet _Kater_. 

Oh god.

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°


	2. The World I know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang!
> 
> Un beta'd again. And I'll probably rewrite this summary when I'm not running on pure adrenaline and pain. I'm currently sitting in a hospital with a (possibly) broken ankle, and I last slept ohhhh thirty hours ago? 
> 
> I'm super excited for some constructive feedback that'll help improve my writing, but be gentle cause I'm exhausted. I'll probably rewrite this once I'm feeling better but I really want to work up the habit of regular updates because I actually have a lot I'm hoping to do with this story (self-confidence and anxiety permitting).
> 
> The song referenced in this chapter is "The World I Know" by Collective Soul.
> 
> Oh and also, there's talk of teen drinking but I didn't hit the underage tag because the legal drinking age in Germany is 16 :)

"Knowing the spatial relationship between chord tones on the fretboard is crucial to understanding arpeggios patterns, as opposed to simply memorizing them. Now if we take a look at…."

You're trying to pay attention, _really_ you are, and it's absolutely your uncle's fault for his ever increasing concern towards your coffee intake _._ It frankly boggles your mind that he's so bothered by it when you've had _beer_ in his presence. Hell, he even knows about your sixteenth birthday at Oktoberfest with your parents and how _that_ night had ended ( _Horribly_ , since Father decided it was his responsibility to gift you the experience of what it's like to get _very_ drunk so that you'd always know what your limits are. The consequential hangover was enough to scare you away from anything more than half a glass with dinner since).

"Vinke-san."

But caffeine…. _that's_ the hill your uncle is choosing to die on. The totally unreasonable hill of caffeine restrictions.

"Vinke-san"

" _Studies show that caffeine intake for someone your age should be capped at 100mg or less."_ That's _two cups of tea!_ Or three cokes! Not that you _like_ coke. Not since Mother told you to put a tooth in a cup of the stuff and the next morning it was _gone._ The implications of that are horrifying, does that mean you could dissolve an entire body in coke? How much of it would you even need to get the job done? 

_"Vinke-san_."

You snap back to reality with a slight jump in your seat, and look over at the girl who'd been whispering your name with an apologetic wince "Sorry, Takahashi-san."

She's a little wisp of a thing with a sweet smile and soft voice, she's also one of the first who had welcomed you enthusiastically here at Nekoma "Would you like to work together?"

"Huh?"

"You didn't hear the teacher telling us to partner up?" She giggles "There's not enough guitars for everyone so we have to take turns."

You'd been certain that music class would only continue to cover theory. Dull, _tedious_ theory that you haven't had to go over since you were _seven_ . But looking around you indeed see students pairing off into twos, and then going up to pull one of the fifteen or so guitars off the wall. Whatever caffeine deprivation you'd been dealing with I suddenly burned away by the thrill of anticipation at actually getting to have _some_ fun, however minute in this class, "Yes, Takahashi-san, I would _love_ to partner up with you, and _please_ call me Emma. Have you played before?" She probably thinks you're being forward by telling her to use your first name, and maybe even sees it as a sign that you really enjoy her company, instead of what it really is -that you're a little over hearing everyone calling you _Binke,_ since the "v" sound isn't used in Japanese, and the letter equivalent in Kanji is actually read as a soft _b_ . That, along with having _always_ been Emma, is throwing you off, so if people find you extra open for insisting that they use your first name after only knowing them a short time, that's on them, you'll space out less often if people are using Emma. 

"Emma-san, then. And just the basics we learned last year" Another giggle along with a bright smile "I play a lot of violin though. What about you?"

"Yeah." You feel your lips break into a grin "Yeah I've played a little."

She gives a happy sort of hum in response before getting up to fetch one of the guitars, a Yamaha FG800. The sight of it reminds you of the two Fenders sitting at home, untouched in their box since you'd arrived in Japan. And since you're practically _vibrating_ at the idea of getting to practice _basic patterns_ , it's obviously past time to bring them out and play until the callouses on your fingertips are good and worked over.

While Taka's at the wall of guitars, you're looking around the room to see who's partnering up together, and notice -unsurprisingly, that the only other blonde- Kozume, you think his name is, is once again tucked in the corner and doing his level best to be completely invisible. Flicking your eyes over, you see the teacher staring at him disapprovingly, and a feeling of sympathy flares up within you. In your few days here, you've found your attention drawn to him, noticing that in every class he's avoided any and all interactions with others, and it's rapidly becoming apparent that his social avoidance comes from something a little deeper than simple apathy, and you're wondering if maybe he hasn't been bullied in the past. But if the way the music teacher is eyeing him is any indication, his avoidance is going to be a problem at some point, and maybe being the new kid every couple of years has left you sensitive to the idea of someone being lonely because you find yourself catching Takahashi's eye from across the room and jerking your head in the shy boy's direction. She follows your gesture, then flicks her gaze back to you with a raised brow and a nod, so you stand and scoop her bookbag up along with your own, before making your way over to the back of the classroom.

As your shadows fall across his desk, you see him stiffen slightly before turning his eyes up to meet yours for the first time ever, startling you a little with how beautifully gold they are. His gaze rapidly slides away from you, further confirming your suspicion that he's very uncomfortable with any sort of prolonged interaction. But you're a girl on a mission, not easily swayed "Hey, Kozume, right?" His eyes flick back up to you, then drop away "Taka-chan and I noticed that you didn't have a partner, feeling like grouping up?"

Gold eyes meet yours once again, before just as rapidly skittering away "Um. I don't really play…"

"Oh I figured." You lean in and drop your voice "Okay, all honesty? I saw the teacher giving you 'the look', and figured maybe it'd help get her off your back. I guess?." He doesn't glance up at you, but his shoulders drop ever so slightly "You don't even have to join in, me n' Taka will goof around and you can just stay in your bubble, okay?"

At this he does look up, at both you and Takahashi who's nodding and smiling in agreement to what you're saying. His gaze flicks back down to his lap, but you hear an "Okay" so quiet that part of you is sure it's in your head, but Taka must have heard it too, since she's already dropping into a chair nearby and turning her attention over to the teacher who's outlining the exercises that the class will be practicing.

It looks like arpeggios are the flavour of the day, which is at least minutely stimulating, and not say _here we have the finger position for C Major._ But either way, hearing the awkward _plunks_ and ear-rending _scraangs_ coming from your classmates is making you realize once again just how much you miss your own guitars, and you resolve to dig them out of storage the _moment_ you get home so you can strum away until sunrise. 

Then it hits you that you're supposed to meet your Japanese teacher for _supplemental studying_ today, meaning you'll be home a whole _two hours later,_ ( _ugh_ ).

Takahashi is working her way through the exercises with her tongue out slightly between her teeth and her face pinched in concentration, meanwhile Kozume is still doing his best to be invisible while back on his portable console, so the two of you tactfully avoid interacting with him too much directly. This goes on for some time before the other girl blows air out of her cheeks and hands the guitar off to you "I give up." she huffs in frustration, as you laugh and take a moment to stretch out your hands and fingers, before taking it from her and running your way through all the exercises with little effort. After playing around with some random chords, you settle -almost randomly into "The World I Know" by Collective Soul , as Takahashi narrows her eyes at you "Played a _little_ , hm?"

_Has our conscience shown?_

_Has the sweet breeze blown?_

_Has all the kindness gone?_

_Hope still lingers on_

_I drink myself of newfound pity_

_Sitting alone in New York City_

_And I don't know why_

"Maybe more than a little." You admit with a sheepish grin, handing the guitar back to her "Here, want me to walk you through it?"

Towards the end of class Takahashi's nailing the exercises pretty well, though she does shove the instrument back into your hands every so often saying she needs a break, before begging you to play something _anything_ while she listens with a soft smile. You needle her for slacking to which she rolls her eyes at before responding rather primly that guitar strings are too thick, hard to press on, and they _hurt_ (b _aby)._

When the bell rings, the students rush to put away their instruments before making their way to the next class, as the three of you make your way out of the classroom you're stopped by the music teacher who comments in approval at your work as a group, followed by telling _you_ directly that she hopes you'll be open to playing openly for the class some time in the near future. Honestly the request isn't uncomfortable, you've been playing in front of others for years, and you tell her as much, agreeing to being used for the occasional demonstration, possibly in exchange for some free practice time, before politely excusing yourself to head towards your next class.

  
  


~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

The end of your day at school is certainly less accomplished than the easy-breezy hour that had been music class.

"What about this one, Vinke-san?"

_Binke-san_ again. This will be the sixth attempt in a row that you're going to mess up"....I know the answer isn't _chéng_ but…" You're drawing a blank, incapable of registering the symbol in front of you into its Japanese translation.

Your teacher is gracing you with another patient smile. "This would be _Makoto_ or _Sei_ depending on how it is used." They go back to shuffling the flash cards before selecting one to hold in front of you. "Let's try this one." 

" _Adult male_."

"These characters express the phrase _Are you all right?_ " Another shuffle, another card singled out "This one?"

"S _oup_."

"Close, Vinke-san. This one means _hot water."_ More shuffling, another card is held up for you, your own anxiety towards this exercise mounts with every mistake.

"... _Reluctance_."

"No, Vinke-san, this means _to study."_

With a defeated groan, your head drops into your hands _Eta tak razdrazhayet_!" You mutter, quietly. 

"Sorry?"

"Ah. _Gomen nasai, sensei_." You tilt your face to peek up at them "I was just expressing my frustrations."

They eye you quizzically, before asking "In German?"

"Ah Russian that time." You answer sheepishly "For some reason when I get worked up, my brain turns to Russian."

You know _exactly_ why that is. It's because when you'd lived in St-Petersburg, one of the younger aides took great amusement in teaching you a more - _creative_ vocabulary behind your parent's backs, and they only caught on when it was too late, their precious little girl was already hard wired to shriek _Blyat_ or _Mudak_ every time she got fussy or upset, and while they'd managed to mitigate some of the damage (both familial and international) by curbing your impulse to use actual foul language, it still stands that any time you get angry or stressed, Anatoly Vasiliev's coaching inevitably comes out, and you'll curse up a streak that's more colourful than the roof of an Orthodox Church.

Like now, when you're trying to force your brain to forget the translations of Chinese _Hanzi_ characters that you've known for years, and to remember their meanings as _Kanji_ instead. It's an arduous process, made even more complicated by the fact that unlike _Hanzi_ which always has a single meaning, the Japanese characters can be interpreted in various ways, which is just adding to your confusion. 

The spoken aspect of language has always come fairly easily to you, and by now you're fluent in seven of them. Japanese is _going_ to be number eight, but you're coming into this country with only six months of practice prior to your arrival, and having focused more on the verbal aspect of the language since it's what you tend to absorb more rapidly. 

Unfortunately, you can't exactly have all your textbooks on audio, or have your exam questions spoken to you, so you have no choice but to grit your teeth and knuckle down.

But if you keep mis-reading _letter_ as _toilet paper_ you're going to have an _aneurysm._

Really it's a blessing that you've landed a Japanese teacher who has both infinite patience, and good humour, because you've been at this for over an _hour_ already, and at this point you're practically feeling morose. A sentiment further fueled by the gloomy thoughts of certainty that no matter how nice and patient your teacher is acting, they probably wish they were doing something more productive than what they're probably thinking of as _hand holding._

"Vinke-san…" You wince internally and brace yourself for whatever criticism is about to fly your way "You really shouldn't put too much pressure on yourself. It's still only your first week here, and you _will_ catch up."

_Oh_ . For a moment it's almost all you can do to blink at your teacher in surprise " _Sensei,_ I…uh...thank you." Feeling a blush creep up your cheeks you can't help but add "I just worry that I'm adding too much work for you." 

"Nonsense." Your teacher replies "It's an enjoyable thing to see one so motivated to learn. However" they pause to gather up and straighten the flashcards "I do believe that we'll end here for today."

You almost want to melt with relief "Okay, _Sensei._ Thank you again."

"It's no problem, we could go longer of course, but it's important for take breaks, and I have to run some paperwork down to the boy's volleyball club."

"Oh! If you like I would be happy to do that for you." It's certainly the least you can do to repay them for the time they're taking for you.

"Really? That would actually be quite helpful."

"Of course, _Sensei._ " You scoop up your bookbag before reaching out to take the pile of papers from their arms, and minutes later you're standing outside the doors of gymnasium number two, listening to the sounds of impact followed by shouts of " _Nice Kill!_ " as you toe off your shoes and slip inside to come face to face with the controlled chaos that is team sports. 

The squeak of shoes across the floor, the shouts of both accomplishment and frustration, the _thud_ of a body as a player throws themselves to the floor, and certainly that loud impact sound- somewhere between a _smack_ and a _bang_ , of the volleyball as it slams into the ground. Everyone's in some variation of red and black (or white) sportswear, and despite the size of the space, the air is thick with the scent of sweat and adrenaline coming off the players as they leap, sprint or dive across the space. 

"May I help you?"

You jump, and whirl to face the speaker. A man who looks to be in his mid twenties standing next to a much shorter and older gentleman with gray hair, the two wearing matching red and white track suits, and both greeting you with polite, yet quizzical smiles. 

"Yes!" You flush slightly at having been distracted as you hurry over to them "I'm here to drop off some paperwork." Giving a hasty bow, before handing the papers off to the gentleman in front of you. "Ah!" The older man exclaims with a grin "the permission slips for Golden Week, excellent. Thank you!"

You're about to respond with some sort of _you're welcome_ when a particularly loud _bang_ echoes out across the gym, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin in surprise with an undignified _squeak_ . Both coaches chuckle good naturedly before one asks you if it's the first time you've come across this sort of practice, to which you mumble out an mildly embarrassed _yes but not at this sort of level._

The older coach smiles and nods happily "Yes. They're a good group of boys, I'm sure we'll go far this year." He turns his attention back to his players and begins to shout out encouragements to some, corrections to others, and as you watch, it startles you to spot a familiar blonde at the center of the action. _Kozume_ . Not only participating, but actually looking like an essential component of the team. The sight of him not as isolated as you'd assumed him to be brings a smile to your face and you can't help but think _good for him._

It's not long after that one of the players -tall, and with spiky brown hair, separates himself from the action and heads over to the benches near you to gather up the dozen or so water bottles scattered there. He's trying -and failing, to gather them all up for a single trip, and the way he keeps dropping them,along with the frankly adorable look of frustration on his face is so comically endearing that you can't help but offer "Do you need a hand?" At his enthusiastic nod and grateful "Yes please" you walk over with a smile and gather up half of the bottles into your arms before following him to the gym's entrance where you stuff your feet haphazardly into your shoes before shuffling off with him towards the water fountains.

"I'm Inouka. Nice to meet you, and thanks again." He says with a bright grin as he fills a bottle.

"Vinke" you respond, dimly hoping he'll magically be able to sound out the 'v' before you give up and have him call you Emma "and it's no problem. You looked like you were having a little trouble." You find yourself grinning back in return at his downright sunny demeanor as he gives into his curiosity and begins to pepper you with the standard litany of questions. _Where are you from, how long have you been in Japan,_ and so on. Entirely friendly, nothing invasive, and before you know it, you're venting your frustrations towards your supplemental lessons as you finish filling the water bottles and start carrying them back to the gym "I swear! I'm going to be forever stuck blanking on a solid _third_ of the language."

"But it's _so cool_ that you already know a _whole_ other alphabet. Plus you're German, and you can speak English too right!? That's like…" He pauses and chews at his lip in thought " _Four_ alphabets that you know! That's _incredible!_ So how long were you in China before you came here?" You're shucking off your shoes and stepping back inside the gym, and his innocent curiosity and guileless expression has you answering before you think to stop yourself "Oh I lived in China when I was younger. Before coming here I was in Peru."

_Aw hell._

You don't want to talk about Peru, and now Inouka's off like a _shot_ " _Wow_ Peru!? That's amazing! So you've lived in lotsa places huh? How long were you there? What do your parents do for you to move around so much?"

Your brain is gearing up towards overdrive, and you're scrambling to answer in some way that will avoid your falling into the yawning void of loss that always threatens to overtake you whenever you think of Peru. The car, the fall, the splash of water _, and the fingers scrabbling against the seatbelt…._

"What's this? Is someone slacking off so he can flirt?"

The tone is amused, and the words are effective at yanking you back from that mental precipice, and your gaze skitters across the gym since you _recognize that voice._

Tall, messy haired, with a hooded gaze, and lopsided smile. It's the guy from yesterday, the one who'd caught you after someone had sent you flying, and you're honestly a little grateful at his interrupting your downward spiral, but at the same time completely surprised by his presence. You don't remember having spotted him before, but you had probably been too distracted by the sight of Kozume socializing to really notice.

Next to you, Inouka is red faced and sheepish "No, Captain! No flirting, I was following coach's orders and she offered to help." 

The _captain_ wanders over to stand in front of you both with a raised eyebrow "Oh? And you took your _upperclassman's_ offer for help as an excuse to get extra friendly with her, hm? How casual if you " He's clearly enjoying how Inouka's face flushes even darker in shock and embarrassment " _Senpai!?_ Oh no! I-I didn't realize!" With arms still full of water bottles he bows hastily towards you before stammering out a string of apologies "I'm so sorry for having spoken so casually! I didn't realize! It was very rude of me, and it won't happen again!"

"Whoa whoa!" You're well aware that Japan has a pretty serious etiquette surrounding hierarchy, but the boy's reaction is definitely surprising. "Inouka, it's fine!" You shoot the other guy a glare before turning back to the flustered brunet "You can talk to me however, it's really fine."

He's still looking a little shame faced, but manages a smile and an "Okay, Senpai" before excusing himself to start handing out water bottles to his teammates as they pack away shoes and kneepads into duffel bags. You look over and glare at the now snickering captain, "Was that _really_ necessary?"

"Not really, but it was fun." He's looking a _little_ too pleased with himself, but adds "Though there _are_ some upperclassmen that do actually take that sort of thing fairly seriously." 

"I've heard. Might be one of the things that'll take the most adjusting to here." The half a dozen water bottles that you're still holding are starting to slip in your grip, he reaches over to start taking them from you "Oh. Thanks…." You realize that you've yet to learn his name " _Senpai."_

"Kuroo." He's managed to settle five of the bottles in one arm before plucking the sixth from your hand, tugging the squeeze cap open with his teeth and taking a long drink "Kuroo Testuro."

The sight of his adams apple bobbing as he drinks again is _slightly_ distracting, and of the satisfied smirk is any indication he's absolutely caught you staring. You try and fight against the flush that's rising in your cheeks, and swipe your tongue across suddenly dry lips "Kuroo-san. It's nice to meet you. I'm…"

"Vinke." He responds immediately, to which you blink in surprise.

"How did you...?"

"You're in Kenma's class. He's mentioned you."

"Kenma…?" You tuck your lips into a straight line and furrow your brow as you try to place the name, until Kuroo points and you realize that he means "Oh! Kozume-san, right. Wait he's mentioned me?"

Kuroo's face shifts into something less lazy, and decidedly more charming. "He's spoken about a blonde foreign girl in his class who started just yesterday." He takes another pull from his water bottle, then wipes at his mouth with his wrist "I can only imagine he means you."

"To be honest, I wasn't aware he spoke to _anyone_ , really." You look over at Kozume who's once again tucked away in a corner, on his phone "He's rather reserved in class." Your attention is called away to the other players, and you feel guilty at the realization that half of them are still waiting on their water bottles "I really should let you get back to your players before they die of dehydration."

"Right." Kuroo's eyes widen as he looks over at his team, the barest hint of guilt flashes across his face before he’s once again wearing that usual crooked smile "I should probably go be a proper captain, huh?”

“Especially since you were giving your _Kohai_ , grief for slacking what...five minutes ago?” You tease with a wink, unable to stop yourself from grinning “I’ll see you around?”

He holds up his water bottle in a salute goodbye “I think we will. In fact,” His smile is almost feral and it fills your ribcage with phantom wings “I’m almost certain of it."

That smile chases you all the way to the curb where you wait for Kenji to show up and drive you home, and it's only _much_ later, after dinner in your room, and playing until your hands cramp, that the fluttering in your chest finally fades away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was struggling a little with how to bring across the linguistic challenges that my reader might be facing, as well as how one might be adapting to things like name pronunciation and such. I hope I managed to convey it properly, but I'm honestly running on fumes so I might wake up 12 hours from now and be utterly horrified by what I've posted. 
> 
> Anyways, REALLY hope you enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Onkel and Oom both mean Uncle (In German and Dutch)  
> Spatzi/Sparrow (or Little Sparrow, a common German endearment)  
> Kater/Male Cat
> 
> The song in question is Velvet Goldmine by David Bowie. My own musical tastes are pretty all over the board and that might come out in this fic. Who knows, maybe you'll discover new things you like? Or leave me songs/artists YOU like and hopefully I'll discover new stuff too!
> 
> https://www.spiceroots.com/pepperkoek-the-dutch-spiced-cake-daring-bakers/


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